A BookFace friend of mine linked me to this amazing bedroom today:
I’ve never put much in the way of interior design on this blog, but it’s inherently part the aesthetic I create for my well-being. I always put the maximum amount of effort into designing my bedroom. I’ve found in sharing the last 2 or 3 places I’ve lived with other people that one’s own bedroom is almost a sanctuary from a stylistic perspective. Common areas are great because often you’ll have a clashing of artistic styles of the various inhabitants, which in its own right turns into an interesting composition. For example, I have a large portrait of Ludwig van Beethoven in my living room sitting right below an Ansel Adams portrait of Mount McKinley.
I like public spaces and the unique style they are capable of creating. But as I was saying, bedrooms are a totally different story… assuming it is not shared with another single, permanent inhabitant. Multiple inhabitants are totally okay haha. But I think it’s a place to escape to… the space and the walls become an extension of your mind and you are free to form them into what you want. When you look at your books on their shelves or your artwork on the walls its almost like looking through a window into your soul. Things (material possessions) can become a part of who you are as long as their are imbued with intrinsic value — that is beyond the superficial. I think Bertrand Russell would agree with me that having things that remind you of your passions… of the things that profoundly interest you is totally legit.
I think it can totally be to the benefit of an individual’s mental health to have things on their walls that inspire that sort of interest and inquisitiveness. All my walls are occupied with artwork. I’ve got an old French travel poster of Angkor Wat. A color lithograph of the French Revolution. A 1886 map of Syria and the Levant. I would imagine these pieces take on a life of their own. That simply their mere presence could inform my tranquility of my dreams. The same goes for a good bookshelf, where one’s tomes can be completely visible to the naked eye. Don’t you see them calling out. Each one – some fantastic story you’ve previously read – just begging for you to return.
And that’s how I see bedrooms, and the importance of furnishing them as an extension of yourself. At the end of the day they call you back from wherever you’ve been. Call you to return to a single solitary place, where no one can enter unless you implicitly invite them.